It’s time for the administration.
We’re in purgatory of overplayed, four-minute songs.
It is a Cask of Amontillado.
I will now get issued
A sterile estuary
Of saline air, like
Breathing without oxygen,
To behold
My death wall
Which is like a wall of slate grey,
As another woman
Wails urgently
About a male love interest.
Oh, look over there,
My coworker Bertha is singing along to the song.
That’s cute, I guess.
Girls are pretty cute, I reckon.
I now decide I like the song and
I will await spring.
..
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